I'll Fall for You
by Tiger Woody
Summary: What if Castiel and Meg had known each other while Meg was still human? And what if he had fallen from grace just to be with her?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer – I do not own Supernatural. This is just a random idea that came to me in the shower the other day (showers help me think). Normally I'd just not write it and think of it as a lovely head canon but I've been without muse for like a week now and something FINALLY came to me I am taking advantage of it**

/

In his life time, Castiel had only ever cared for four human beings. Three of those he thought of as his family; their names' were Dean and Sam Winchester and Bobby Singer. The forth . . . Well, the forth had been _her._

So long ago it had been, when Castiel truly fell in love with a human—quite literally. This is the story of the first time the angel fell, so many, many years back.

/

Black Death. That's what they were calling it. The bubonic plague; an abomination and, a threat to the human species.

So Michael sent some of his younger brothers and sisters down from heaven to fix the problem. They had to protect humans, of course. That _is _what their father had wanted them to do, after all. The angels were instructed to heal who they could and stop the illness from spreading. A simple task—it wouldn't take much time at all.

Castiel was one of the angels who were sent down. The area had been given was a small village just outside of London, England. For a vessel; a younger man—probably in his early twenties, with dark hair and blue eyes, very similar to his current vessel, as a matter of fact. His first patient—a small child who had fallen ill only three days before. Castiel did as instructed—he approached the door and knocked. A woman answered, most likely the boy's mother.

"What is it?" she asked; sadness in her voice.

Castiel took a deep breath. He hadn't had to speak with a human in a very long time. And English was a completely new language for him. "Greetings, ma'am. My name is Castiel; I am here to help your son."

The woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Not the doctor. Who then?"

"I am a new doctor, travelling through this town," he lied (as instructed by his older brother). "I know a cure for the plague, if you will please let me look at him . . ."

She considered his words, and after a moment, slowly slid the door open enough to let him in. The house was small—only one room. Lying on the bed farthest from the door was a young boy—only five or six. His face was pale and his eyes shut. He was sweating from a fever. Castiel walked over to him and placed his hand on the boy's forehead. After a moment, the color returned to his face and his breath became steadier—he was well again.

The mother gasped. "How did—Thank you!"

She threw her arms around Castiel, then retreated realizing she was being indecent. She rushed over to her son and brushed aside his over-grown hair.

"It was my pleasure, ma'am. If you'll excuse me, there are more people I need to save." He turned to leave, but she ran forward and jumped in front of him.

"Wait! You must want pay?"

He shook his head. "That is unnecessary, but thank you for your generous offer. I will be on my way now."

Word of his miracle healings quickly spread. People soon learned who he was, and came to him when members of their family fell ill. Nearly a month after him arriving, it had become a regular practice for him to stand outside in the square and heal sick people that were brought to him—so he could take more in one day. House calls were almost unheard of.

Until one day, right in the middle of him healing an elderly woman, a shriek rang through the street. "HELP! SOMEONE HELP! I NEED THE HEALER! CATHERINE NEEDS THE HEALER!"

A girl around thirteen or fourteen pushed through the crowd up to Castiel, screaming hysterically the entire time. Castiel healed the woman, stood up, and walked over to the girl. "What is the matter?"

"My sister," the girl sobbed. "Please you have to help her. She's too ill to move. She hid it from me for Lord knows how long but just now she fainted while we were feeding the animals. Please help us, please!"

"Take me to her," Castiel said. This resulted in angry protests from the crowd.

"We've been waiting here all day!"

"What about the sick people _right here?!"_

"Oi! You can't just run off like that!"

"If your ill are still well enough to make the journey here I am not concerned for them as much as a woman dying as we speak," Castiel snapped back at them. "I'll be back—this won't take long."

The girl sprinted away, Castiel following closely behind her. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Margret," she replied. "And I know you. You're Castiel. People say you can heal anyone."

Castiel said nothing. He continued to run after the girl, though finally taking a moment to observe her appearance.

She had long light hair pulled back behind a white piece of cloth tied like a bandana over her head. Her eyes were a light shade of blue and her skin was pale. Her green dress was torn and filthy—as was her face. But that seemed to be the condition of most people. She had a trail of freckles across her nose. Her run finally slowed to a walk when they reached the bottom of a hill. At the top, smoke from a chimney could be seen. "That's it. That's my house. Catherine's there."

Castiel nodded, and "flew" up to the house. He'd worry about explaining that bit to Margret later.

This house was also small, also only one room, though there appeared to be a second floor. That didn't matter. What did matter was the woman lying on the bed pushed against the left wall. The bubo on her neck was very visible, and he wondered how she had managed to conceal that from her sister. Her breathing was heavy and she was covered in sweat. She moaned quietly in her sleep, probably a result of the sore muscle symptom Castiel had observed in other victims. Her skin was starting to take on a pinkish hue—which meant this case was in face severe. How she had been on her earlier that day was a mystery. Realizing he was wasting time, he walked over to her and placed a hand on her face. The bubo on her neck shrunk down to nothing, her breathing steadied, her skin returned to a normal color and the sweat disappeared from her face. Her eyes flickered open—hazel, unlike her sister's. Her hair was also much darker. They really didn't look much alike at all.

"W-who are you?" she croaked.

"My name is Castiel," he told her. "I just cured you of the Black Death. You might want to take it easy for a while."

She blinked. "You are Castiel the Healer?"

He nodded. "That is what the villagers have named me."

"I'm Catherine," she told him. "And, uh . . . Thank you. For saving my life."

Before he had time to respond, the door flew open, revealing a panting Margret. She must have ran up the hill to check on her sister, not knowing where Castiel had gone.

"H-how did you—"

"I will explain that all later," Castiel promised. "But if you will excuse me, there is a mob of angry villagers waiting for me to heal their family members."

"Wait!" Catherine cried. She swung her legs around the bed and stood up. The multi-pattern quilt that had been over her fell to the ground, revealing her dark purple dress (that was also terribly filthy). "You can't just leave! There must be something we can give you to show our gratitude—"

"I require no payment," he told her, and attempted to leave again.

"Wait!" she said again. Persistent little human . . . "Where are you living?"

Castiel thought a moment. "Nowhere, I suppose."

"Well, welcome home, then," she told him. "You live here now. Least we can do. You'll sleep here and head to town in the mornings to heal people. No arguments. Now, go, save more lives. Be home in time for supper."

He had never been bossed around by a human before, and he could certainly blow her into nothingness, but that would not only defeat the purpose of having healed her, but also create a great toll on his conscience. In a strange way, she _was_ being kind, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel wasn't sure why, but he felt compelled to return to the farm later that night after he had healed everyone in the square. Of course, Catherine _was _expecting him, so showing up would be the polite thing to do. But there was something else. Something he had seen in her eyes that he wanted so badly to see again. Was this . . . _attraction? _Oh what a strange new development that would be.

Not bothering to walk, he once again appeared in the tiny house. Margret was standing by the oven and grabbed onto the table for support, startled. "Oi! Mister Healer-you'd better stop doing that! You're gonna scare someone to death!"

Catherine-who was standing on the other side of the room, simply looked impressed. "How do you do it then? Appear like that?"

Castiel thought about what he should say. He _could_ tell them the truth, that was the solution that came naturally. But then again, would they even believe him? Probably-this was early civilization after all. Not too long ago human beings had believed that one river held more power than anything else in the world. They had so much to learn . . . "I am an Angel of the Lord. I was sent to heal your sick and rebuild your species."

Margret's eyes widened. She believed him instantly; as expected. Catherine however . . . "Prove it."

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"Prove it," she repeated. "What, you think I'm gonna blindly trust that you're a bloody _angel?" _

Cas was confused. ". . . Yes. But I suppose if it's needed, I could prove it to you." He walked over to the stove and snapped his fingers. A flame roared to life. "Does that prove it enough for you?"

Catherine thought a moment. "Well . . . You can apparently heal people of the plague, and you just appeared inside my house so . . . Yes, I think that'll do it."

"An angel in our house," Margret said, astounded. "And look at me sitting here in my work clothes . . . I got a church dress upstairs if you'd prefer Mr. Castie-"

"That won't be necessary," he told her. "Your clothing does not matter to me."

"Angels eat stew?" Catherine asked. She turned her back to him and walked over towards the door.

"What?"

"Do angels eat stew?" she repeated as she draped her cloak over herself. "I'm going to make stew for dinner, unless you can't eat that. Just gotta go get some carrots from out back."

Castiel had, in truth, never tried 'stew'. He had never really eaten much food at all; being an angel he didn't need to. But it's not like it would kill him. "Yes, stew is fine. I . . . I love stew."

Catherine grinned-though Cas was unsure why- and stepped out into the dark.

"Will you stay?" Margret asked.

He turned to where she was, having temporarily forgotten her presence.

"Will you stay with us?" she asked again.

"So long as I am welcomed and needed," Castiel replied.

She smiled. "Good . . . Catherine would love if you stayed, I know she would. But there will be some conditions . . . She'll make you pull your weight-mark my words."

"Where are your parents?" Castiel asked, ignoring her previous statements. If they needed his help with work he would gladly oblige.

"They died last year," Margret said sadly. "Just Cat and I now. Our father had a small dowry set aside for her . . . She used it to pay for feed until we got the farm back up on its feet. She takes care of us, she does. People in town call her a man and look away when she walks by, but they'll still purchase our vegetables-Cat says it's because they know our soil's better than anywhere else in the world."

Castiel picked up two things from that explanation 1) Margret talked a lot and 2) Catherine was independent. You didn't see very many independent women in that time . . .

The door swung open and Catherine reentered the house. "Put some water on, would you Margret? And you, angel-man. Be a dear and start cutting."

She threw him the bundle of carrots she had brought in with her and gestured to the knife laying on the table.

* * *

"Mmm . . ." Castiel never thought human food could be so delicious. "This is amazing . . . What's it called again?"

Margret giggled. "It's Stew!"

"I like this," Castiel told them.

"I'll have to make it more often then," Catherine said.

"You are a brilliant cook," he told her. She blushed slightly and thanked him quietly. He liked that . . . When she was quiet.

"You'll be sleeping my bed upstairs," Catherine told him. "While you're here I'll move in with Maggie. Tomorrow morning I'll wake you up early so you can help with the feeding, then you can go into town and heal some people. That alright?"

"Yes," Castiel replied. He wasn't quite sure what she meant by 'feeding' but it didn't sound like it could be too hard. "But there is no need for you to give up your bed, Catherine. I do not sleep."

"You don't _sleep,_" Margret said. "Why not?"

"It isn't needed," he told her. "I would be happy to start this 'feeding' business while you two are resting, if you'd like."

Catherine snorted. "Animals have already been fed for today. You'll have to wait for us anyway, doubt you'd know what to do being an angel and such. No you just keep yourself busy a few hours, then. Do whatever it is that . . . angels do, I suppose."

* * *

Castiel did as instructed. He waited all night for Margret and Catherine to finish sleeping and teach him to feed the animals. While they slept, he sat outside on the roof; guarding their house. He wasn't sure what from, but that's all he could really think to do anyway. Robbers and thieves were always a possibility.

"Castiel!" he heard Catherine yell from inside. "Oi! Angel-man! Where'd you go?!"

He appeared back in the kitchen; same place as before. Once again Margret jumped. "I was on the roof."

"What for?" Margret asked.

"I was keeping watch," he replied. "Will you teach me to feed the animals now?"

Catherine nodded. "Yes, but first, breakfast." She tossed him a small piece of bread. "Make it last; probably all you'll get 'til supper."

He shook his head and held it back out to her. "I do not need to eat; please save what little you have for yourselves."

Margret shook her head as she pulled her hair back into her bandanna. "Doesn't sleep, doesn't eat . . . Next thing he'll be saying is that he doesn't need to breathe!"

"Actually I-"

Catherine slapped her hand over his mouth. "That's enough out of you, angel-man. C'mon, I'll show you how to feed the chickens. That'll be your job from now on."

When they got outside, Castiel followed Catherine around the back of the house to a little fenced off area attached to a chicken coop. She filled his hands with seed from the bag that was propped up against the coop and then took some for herself. "You've got to make sure they all get some, so sprinkle it out to them like this."

She demonstrated the proper way to throw seed at the birds. Castiel nodded and mimicked her actions.

"Good!" she praised. "Now, come watch how to get the eggs."

She ducked inside the coop and gestured for Cas to follow. "You've got to be careful not to break them. And once you've got them you put them in that basket there."

She pointed. Cas nodded, took the basket and walked over to one of the nests. Very carefully, he picked up one of the eggs and placed it in the basket.

"Just like that," she told him. "Now, I'm going to go take care of the horses (we've got two to help us with the plowing), Maggie's got the cows. Once you've finished with that, bring the basket back to the house and place it on the table. Then you can go into town like I said. And no using your angel-powers to get the job done; hard work is good for the soul, that's what my dad used to say."

"Yes, ma'am," Castiel agreed. "And what of the goats?"

"I take them after the horses," Catherine told him. "Then, Maggie and I go out and bring in any harvest we might have; though it is a bit early in the year. But you don't need to worry about that, all I ask is that you take care of the chickens."

Castiel could have helped out more-he knew he could have. But Catherine wasn't asking him to, almost like she didn't want him to, so he didn't press the matter.

Twenty minutes later, he had finished collecting the eggs and was walking back up to the house when he heard a shriek. It was coming from the horse stables. Breaking his promise not to use his powers, Cas sent the egg basket to the house and flew to the stables.

Catherine was laying in a heap on the ground in one of the stalls. The horse inside was bucking around like crazy. Castiel sent it telepathic thoughts to calm it down. Once it was still, he entered the stall and crouched down next to Catherine. "Are you alright?"

Her eyes blinked open and she nodded, though she was holding the side of her head like it hurt. "Crazy old horse . . . Sorry about that."

"It's not a problem. Would you like me to fix your head?"

"No thank you," she told him. "I don't like to depend on other people to help me unless I'm dying if that's alright with you." She pulled herself to her feet without any assistance. "Now, go make the world a healthier place and be home in time for supper."

Castiel nodded and disappeared. Catherine was sure she'd never get used to that.

* * *

As the months went on, that daily routine first experienced continued. Of course, there were other little details here and there. Like when Margret slipped and fell in the mud, and Catherine laughed so Margret pulled her down as well, and then Castiel after and the three of them sat and laughed for a while. Or when Catherine taught Castiel how to ride the horse to do the plowing and he nearly rode into the side of the chicken coop. Or when Margret cried because one of the older cows was attacked by a wolf in the middle of the night and died. Or when Castiel learned to help Catherine with the cooking. Or when the three of them celebrated Christmas together and Catherine and Margret gave him a new shirt to wear. Or all the times they went to Church together. Or the way he noticed Catherine starring at him when she thought no one was looking. Or just maybe the way Castiel found himself doing the same to her. Or the way Margret smiled at the two of them like she knew a secret they didn't. All these things seemed like mundane details at the time . . . But truthfully they all played a key part in what would happen. Castiel would fall-because he would become too human.

"Oi angel-man!" Catherine said that night at supper. "Know what I just realized?"

Castiel shrugged.

"You've been with us a whole year now," Catherine replied. "I'd say that's means for celebration, wouldn't you?"

Margret's eyes lit up. "Oh you're right, Cat! It has been a year, hasn't it? We should do something, the three of us . . . Oh I know! Tomorrow, after our morning chores, we can all go into town! Doesn't that sound nice? We can look in shop windows and I can use the money I've been saving to get gifts. Our Christmas was kind of small this year . . . We could have another!"

"Oh come off it," Catherine told her. "We're not even supposed to give each other presents in the first place-we're family! Gift giving is for landlords and tenants and business partners and . . . the King!"

Margret giggled. "Oh come on . . . You know Mother and Father always liked to give us things. Said it was reward for us being so faithful even in the hard times we faced. Well, times have been pretty hard lately, why can't we spoil ourselves a little?"

Castiel took another bite of his dinner. "I agree with Margret . . . You girls have been so kind to me, you deserve something nice. Tomorrow we will go out and I'll buy you each a gift to show my thanks."

Catherine laughed. "With what money?"

"Everyone in town owes me a favor," Castiel told her. "I think I'll be able to pull something together."

* * *

The next day when they entered the town, Castiel was surprised to see no one lined up at his normal spot, waiting to be healed. He pushed the thought aside though; he had to find gifts for Margret and Catherine.

"We're going to go look at dresses," Margret told him. "Mines too small now . . . We might buy some fabric-wouldn't want to bore you, Castiel."

He nodded. "Alright. I'll meet you back here in an hour then." Perfect, now he'd have time to look for something . . .

Finding Margret a gift was easy. He found it as he was walking by a group of stands. A young woman stood behind a table, where there was jewelry displayed. The one he chose was a black cord with a green stone on the end. Maggie would like that, he knew it. Catherine though . . . She wasn't really the type for jewelry. Finding her a gift was going to be difficult.

He considered a book but he wasn't even actually sure that Catherine could read. He could always teach her, of course. And he knew how much she would like it . . . Not a boring book filled with facts, but a fun book. A story book. Yes, Catherine would absolutely love that! He found one that seemed to be interesting enough-a story filled with magic and make-believe would work well. He made a deal with the shop keeper to heal his sick son the next day and took the book without pay, as he had done with the necklace. He figured nearly and hour had passed so he made his way back to the dress shop.

Catherine and Margret were already waiting outside. Catherine had a bundle of cloth in her arms.

"Castiel!" Margret called. "I'm going to sew Cat and I each a new dress when we get home. Isn't that wonderful?"

He nodded. "Very good indeed, Maggie. Oh, and I got you something."

He pulled the necklace out of his pocket and held it out to her. Her eyes lit up as she examined it. "Castiel! It's amazing . . . How did you afford it?"

"I healed the jeweler's husband last spring, apparently. She was more than happy to give it to me for you. I hope you like it."

"I love it!" she said. She swung her arms around his neck, then pulled back quickly not wanting to cause a scene. "Thank you so much! I wish I had something left over to get you a gift but I spent all my money on the cloth . . ."

"It's fine," he told her. "You owe me nothing." He turned to Catherine. "I got you something as well."

"Oh really?" she asked. "What is it then?"

He pulled the book out from behind his back where he had been hiding it. "It's a story book. I wasn't sure if you can read . . . But I'll be happy to teach you if you wish."

Catherine smiled broadly. "A book! I loves books . . . Haven't read one in ages, things have been so crazy lately. My mother taught me to read when I was little. Thank you, Castiel!"

Without warning, Catherine pressed her lips quickly to his and pulled back before anyone around could notice.

His face turned bright red and he stammered when he spoke. "Y-you're welcome, Cat."

"Now then," she said, lacing her fingers through his on one and Margret's with the other. "Let's get out of here quickly . . . I hate being inside the town. The walls make me nervous. I'm much happier out on our farm thank you."

"Wait!" a voice called from behind them. "Stop where you are!"

The three of them turned around to face a short little man wearing colorful and _clean_ clothing.

"Can we help you?" Castiel asked.

"Catherine and Margret Greene, correct?"

The two of them nodded.

"Is it true that the two of you have been living on your father's land since his death _on your own?"_ the man asked. He must work for the king . . . Some kind of property tax collector. Catherine gulped. Women weren't supposed to have their own land . . . It just wasn't something that happened. But it wasn't like she hadn't been paying the taxes for their property or sending in the required amount of their harvest.

"No," Castiel answered. "I live with them."

The man's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting that an unmarried man live under the same roof as _two_ unmarried wom-"

"No," Castiel interrupted. "It's not like that. They supply me with housing so long as I help them with work on the farm and continue to heal people in town everyday. I am Castiel; the Healer."

"Man witch!" the man cried. "Just a man witch if you ask me!"

"Bugger off!" a shop keeper yelled. "Castiel saved my son's life; you leave him alone!"

"Yeah!" another voice called. "He's our savior you lousy dog!"

More voices shouted out defended Cas, and Catherine took the distraction as a blessing and used it to sneak away; her sister and Castiel close behind.

When they reached the farm again, the three of them erupted into fits of laughed. Castiel had never laughed so hard in his life; and he was old. Things on heaven always seemed so much more . . . Serious. It was nice to live with Cat and Maggie and just feel . . . free. Feel human.

When Catherine caught her breath again, she grabbed Cas by his collar and pulled him down into another kiss. It was so improper Castiel almost stopped her . . . Almost.

"Finally!" Margret shouted. "I've been waiting a year for that!"


	3. Chapter 3

More time passed. Years, in fact. And with each day, Castiel felt like he was falling deeper and deeper in love with Catherine. It was a strange sensation; love. Not one he was very familiar with. They kept up with almost all their daily routines in that time; with one small difference. Eventually, people stopped going to the square seeking to be healed. Castiel had done his job, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before he would be reassigned somewhere else. He didn't want to worry Catherine though, so he kept it a secret and prayed his older brothers would allow him to stay.

One night, during a heavy snow storm, Castiel sat by the fire, feeling . . . Fatigue. That wasn't supposed to happen.

"What's the matter Love?" Catherine asked him, noticing his change in expression. "You look ill. Do you have a fever?"

Castiel shook his head and yawned. Yawning? He had never done that before. "I am . . . Tired."

"Thought angels didn't need sleep," Margret said.

Cas nodded. "They don't."

Margret looked puzzled, but Catherine decided to let it be as it was. Obviously something was bothering him. "You can use my bed," she told him. "Maggie and I will share tonight."

Cas didn't bother arguing. He simply nodded his thanks and disappeared up the stairs to where the beds were now kept. The one Catherine had been sleeping in when Castiel first met her had since been chopped up and used for firewood upon its breaking.

"I'm tired as well," Margret said. "I think I might have caught a cold."

Catherine bit her lip. "Better hope not. Last thing I need is a sick little sister. Come on let's go up to bed."

They followed Castiel's path up the stairs, however when they reached the bedroom they found that he was already asleep. They climbed into the empty bed; next to each other.

"Maggie, how old are you?" Catherine asked quietly.

"Be 16 soon," Margret mumbled. She was already half-way asleep.

"Should be finding you a husband then," Catherine said. "Should have done so already . . . You're getting too old."

Margret lifted her head and stared at her sister. "Catherine . . . Do you want to be rid of me?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, though she managed to keep her voice in a whisper. She didn't want to wake her angel-man. "I just don't want people to look at you the way they look at me is all . . ."

"People don't look at you strange," Margret told her. "And if they do they shouldn't. You've got a good reason for being your age and not being married. And I'm sure Castiel will purpose eventually . . . once he figures out how."

Catherine couldn't help but giggle lightly at her sister's joke. "Nonsense . . . He's an angel. He's got heavenly duties. And he can't age . . . Imagine how well that kind of relationship would last. Besides, I'm an old hag. He deserves someone better."

"You love him; he loves you, what more is there to it?" Margret asked.

Catherine sighed and tucked a lock of blond hair behind Maggie's ear. "Maybe someday marriage will only matter about love, as it should. But right now? It's not like that . . ."

"Mother and Father loved each other, didn't they?"

"I'm sure they came to love each other. . . You know their marriage was arranged though," Catherine replied. "Margret, I'm only trying to look out for you. Just as I always have."

"You gave your life up for me, Catherine. Any chance you had of being married or having a real life with someone you ignored so you could take care of me—most of all after our parents died. Promise me if Castiel wishes so, you'll marry him? Even if you think it's unwise, please just promise me."

After a moment of silence, Catherine nodded. "Very well," she agreed. "I promise."

Castiel stayed perfectly still. They must not have realized their whispers woke him up; and he'd rather keep it that way. Especially after what he had just heard. Catherine wanted to marry him?

He'd better ask quickly then.

* * *

The next morning, the three of them awoke to the sound of swooshing wings. The same sound that came from Castiel when he suddenly appeared in the house.

Margret, Catherine, and Castiel all sat straight up in their beds. Who else could fly in like that? Standing before them was a handsome man, probably in his early twenties, with fair hair and dark eyes. He looked only at Castiel. "Hello, Brother."

Castiel nodded. "Michael."

Michael turned to face the other bed. "Catherine and Margret Greene. It's a pleasure to meet you. If you'd please excuse me, I'd like a moment alone with my younger brother."

Catherine nodded. "Uh . . . Not at all, sir. Please, take your time. We'll just—"

The rest of her sentence went unheard, because Castiel and Michael now stood in an open field. Cas would have mistaken it for the one behind their house it was so similar, only here it appeared to be midsummer. There was a light breeze. "The heaven of Frederick Smith?"

Michael nodded. "I know you once liked to frequent here, Castiel. Come and walk with me. There is much to discuss."

Castiel fell in line with his brother's steps. "Such as?"

"You're work appears to be done in that town," Michael stated. Castiel gulped. He knew this was coming . . . "However, I don't think asking you to leave is necessary. Not since you seem to be comfortable there. We've almost eliminated the plague from most of Europe anyway. Hardly the main matter of this meeting."

"What then?"

"Did you sleep well?" Michael asked in return.

Castiel nodded. "It was refreshing."

"I've been wondering what it felt like to sleep," Michael told him. "Because, as you know _angels_ do not need such forms of rest. Not unless wounded or the like. I haven't slept in so long I've nearly forgotten what it feels like."

"What are you implying?"

Michael stopped walking and faced Cas. "You're falling, brother. Fast and hard."

"What do you mean, 'falling'?"

"Your grace. Even now I can see it fading. You are becoming human," Michael told him. "Just thought I should warn you."

Castiel shook his head. "No . . . I can't be. I've done nothing against our Father."

"You've fallen in love with a human," Michael told him. "Plan to marry her, I know. But being around her as made _you_ more human. You're feeling and experiencing things that we are not meant to. You might not have done wrong—but you have reached a place angels shouldn't walk. I beg you to head warn and take action."

"What action would that be? Leaving her?" Castiel asked. "No!"

Michael sighed and shook his head. "What future could you have with her, Brother? Think of all the aspects. Even if you do fall, will you be able to age along with her? What will happen to your vessel when there are two human souls inside of it? What would happen if she asked you for children? Castiel you cannot give Catherine the life that you want to give her. If you stay she'll only be put through more pain and agony from loving you. If you leave now before it's too late—you might be able to save the both of you."

Castiel's head dropped. "You cannot ask this of me."

"Remember your responsibilities, Castiel," Michael told him. "Your commitments. You can't just drop everything, become human, and live the life of one. You're meant for more than that. More than them."

"Careful," Castiel warned; his eyes narrowed. "You're starting to sound like Lucifer."

"Perhaps he had some good points about him," Michael said. "He was, after all, our brother. Maybe after another few millennia, Father will think he's learned his lesson and allow him back home. But that's not important now."

"I do not wish to leave Catherine," Castiel told him. "Is there no other way?"

"We know nothing of fallen angels," Michael told him. "It is an extreme rarity. You know this. Now, let us return to your human company. We've been gone for quite some time . . . They might have started to worry. You can give me your answer at sundown."

* * *

They now stood in the downstairs room of the house. Margret was sitting at the table, chopping carrots, and Catherine was standing over the stove, cooking something. Castiel recognized the scent.

"Not often Castiel's family comes to visit," Margret told Michael, a smile on her face. "We thought we'd make it special."

"Stew!" Castiel exclaimed.

Catherine smiled at him. "You love stew, right?"

Margret snickered. She looked back over at Michael. "So you are staying for supper then?"

"Supper?" Castiel repeated.

Margret nodded. "You've been gone all day!"

Castiel looked at Michael expectantly, hoping he'd refuse the offer. However, he instead nodded and said, "Why thank you for the invitation! I would be honored to dine in the House of Greene."

Fifteen minutes later, Castiel had set the table and Catherine had finished the stew, and Maggie was going around with the ladle making sure everyone got some.

"This is delicious," Michael told Catherine. "Never before have I tasted such a thing. What did you say it was called again?"

She chuckled. "Stew."

"I'll have to show our other brothers and sisters some time," Michael said.

"There are female angels?" Margret asked. "I never knew that!"

"Of course," Castiel told her. "And they have just as many rights as the men. Treated equally and everything . . ."

Margret's jaw dropped. "No!"

Michael nodded and continued off of his younger brother. "Indeed. And in a few hundred years, humans will have reached the same point. It's all rather fascinating, really. You're a funny species. Never really understood why the men decided the women weren't equal to them and cast them down . . . Human males appear to commonly have a lower IQ however . . ."

Margret and Catherine stared at him, not understanding a single word.

Michael pushed his chair away from the table. "Well, it appears to be sundown. I must be off. Many things to do back home . . . Castiel would you be so kind as to walk me out?"

"Of course, Brother," Castiel agreed. He, too, rose from the table.

When the two of them were outside, Michael leaned over and whispered, "Well?"

Castiel looked back into the house. He watched as Catherine cleared the table, and Margret laughed about something she said. A small smile was etched on Catherine's face. Could he really stand being responsible for breaking her heart? But it was either that or taking away her ability to find a man to be happy with. "Where do you need me?"

Michael smiled and patted his back. "I knew you'd make the right decision! I'll meet you tomorrow in Harrison Wright's eternal paradise . . . We can talk more then."

Castiel nodded. "Yes. Tomorrow then."

* * *

"Leaving?" Catherine asked. She had tears in her eyes. "What do you mean you're leaving?"

Castiel had laid out all the personal belongings he had acquired over the years on the table, and was busy packing them into a sack he could take with him. "Michael talked to me about it last night . . . He wishes for me to be assigned to another town somewhere else and heal them as I did this one."

Margret almost smiled. "So this is just temporary then?"

Castiel wouldn't meet their eyes. "I'm afraid not."

"What do you mean?!" Catherine shrieked. "Why wouldn't you come back when your work is done?!"

"There will always be more towns," Castiel told them. "My work never ceases."

Margret used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes. "You'll at least visit?"

No. Of course he wouldn't. Michael wouldn't allow it. Unless . . . "Of course. Whenever you'd like. If ever you need me, just pray to me and I will hear."

"Please don't go," Catherine whispered as he closed the sack. "Please."

Cas sighed and took her hands in his own. "I truly wish that it didn't have to be this way."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips, and he kissed her back. When they broke apart she muttered, "I love you."

She was very bloody good at making this much harder. "I love you too."

_Swoosh._ "Hurry, Brother!"

Castiel turned around. "Michael—what are you doing here?"

"I got tired of waiting," he replied. "Come, it is time for you to go."

He took one final look at Catherine. Tears were streaming down her face and her lip was trembling. He didn't want to leave her.

But what other choice did he have? He knew what he had to do to make sure she would be happy—even if it meant he would forever live with the huge hole he could feel growing in his chest.

It took all his strength to turn away from her. He faced Margret now. He brushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Maggie, Maggie . . . Take care of your sister for me."

She nodded, holding back tears as well. "You know I will."

"Pray if you need me," Castiel told her. "I promise I'll be here as fast as I can."

He didn't notice it, but Michael's body shifted when he said that. Catherine dismissed it immediately, thinking nothing of it.

Margret gave him a quick squeeze. "Good luck, Castiel, _sir._" She smiled at him.

He stepped away from her and walked towards the door, Michael following close behind.

"Off you go then, Angel-Man," Catherine muttered as the door shut behind him.

"He'll be back," Margret told her.

Catherine shook her head. "No . . . You know he won't."

And she had known. Ever since he first entered their home, laid a hand on her forehead and heeled her she had known he was going to leave and never come back. She had assumed it would be after that first night—but it wasn't. He had come back and dined with them. And stayed for a long, long time. This goodbye was overdue. But that didn't make it any less painful.

* * *

A few months passed. Catherine had sat down at the foot of her bed with her hands together and her eyes shut every night; preparing to do the thing she wanted most. Pray to Castiel. But every night she stopped herself. That is, until she realized how much she truly needed him.

Margret's cold had continued to get worse after the night Castiel slept. It turned into a fever, and from that it just got worse and worse. Eventually, she was completely bedridden.

"I'm sorry," she told her older sister. "I wish I didn't have to leave you alone."

"Nonsense," Catherine replied. "You're not going anywhere."

"Cat . . . I can feel it," Margret said. "I'm never getting up from his bed."

And that was when Catherine had done it. She gave in and prayed. Soft at first, but eventually her volume reached the point where it could be considered yelling. She said the same four words, over and over. "CASTIEL, I NEED YOU! CASTIEL, I NEED YOU!"

But the angel did not come.

"YOU BASTARD!" she shrieked. "YOU PROMISED!"

There was still no response. Not that she had expected one. It was then she considered the impossible—the thing she had sworn never to do. But Margret was dying, and desperate times called for desperate measures.

There was rumor of woman in town. A woman who could give you whatever you wanted and asked for nothing in return but your soul. But this woman—her eyes were red and she worked for the Devil. Everyone knew it. Only the brave dared to venture out and talk to her.

Catherine always had been the brave one . . .

She made the journey alone, telling Margret she would be running errands in town and probably wouldn't be home for a few hours. When she reached the place she knew the woman always would appear, she closed her eyes and waited. The crossroads were empty that morning from travelers, thank God. If anyone were to see her . . .

"Well, well," a female voice said. "Catherine Greene. Last person I'd expect to see here."

Catherine opened her eyes. Standing before her was a raven-haired woman, dressed from head to toe in black. As rumored, her eyes were completely red. "How do you know my name?"

"Well, when and angel falls in love with a human, word tends to go around," the woman said.

"Castiel does not love me," Catherine told her. "Or else I would not be here. I need something."

"Helping people is my job," the woman said, spreading her arms wide. "What is it I can do for you?"

Catherine swallowed and stepped forward, telling herself to be brave for her sister. "My younger sister is dying—I need you to make her well again."

"Easy."

Catherine's heart rose up in her chest; hopeful. "Really?"

"Of course. But, it will come at a price."

"I'll give you anything," Catherine agreed."

"Your soul."

Catherine let that sink in. "You really work for Satan then?"

The woman nodded. "In a sense. Big guy's been locked up for some time now—but I make the deals for him now, yes. So; are we in agreement? I'll make little Margret all better, and in five years I'll come around to collect your dues."

_"Five?!"_ Catherine repeated, outraged. "I've heard others say ten!"

"You aren't others," the demon informed her. "I'm taking a risk by talking to you right now. Do you know how much trouble I'd be in if my coworkers were to learn that I'm striking deals with an angel's whore?"

Catherine ignored that last comment. She took a deep breath. "Very well. Just . . . Just save Maggie."

The woman smirked, grabbed Catherine from behind her head and pulled her into a kiss. Catherine was once again thankful that the road was so empty. She'd be stoned had anyone seen such a thing!

Then the demon was gone and Catherine stood alone. When she returned home, she found Margret waiting for her in the kitchen. It had worked.

And in five years—she would die.

* * *

Castiel looked around at his brothers and sisters. They were all finally home—their job had been finished. The plague was completely gone from Europe at last. Sure, there were still small cases here and there, but it wasn't possible for them to save _everybody._

Castiel stood there among them, though he felt separated from the festivities. Everyone was currently busy watching Rachel teach Uriel to dance—and failing miserably. It was quite comical.

"Five and a half years," Anna said to him.

His head snapped up to meet his sister's eyes. "What do you mean?"

"That's how long it's been," she told him. "Since you've seen that girl. Catherine. Has she not prayed to you?"

Castiel shook his head. "No . . . I haven't heard from her or Margret since I left. I expect that to mean that I'm not welcomed anymore."

Anna looked at him, and saw his sadness. She hated seeing her brother that way. She glanced at Michael. Was it safe to tell him? Michael _had_ forbidden it . . . But then again, Anna had always been the most rebellious angel of them all. "Castiel, listen to me carefully. That is not true."

"How should you know?" Cas asked.

"They have been praying to you," Anna told him. "Very often in fact. Michael has been blocking their words from you so that you can't hear. He fears you'll return to them and become human."

Castiel's eyes flashed with anger. "Are you sure?!"

Anna nodded. "And Brother, there's one other thing. Catherine . . . She's sold her soul to the Crossroads Demon."

At hearing that, Castiel didn't even think about what he did next. It kind of just . . . Happened. He was suddenly standing in the main room of Catherine's house.

He saw her there, sitting by the window; looking out. She hadn't heard him enter, so to make his presence known he cleared his throat.

She turned towards him. Her eyes grew wide as though she didn't believe what she was seeing. "Angel-Man . . ."

She stood up and ran into his arms. All thoughts of hatred and abandonment she had had over the years dissolved in and instant. He had come back to her—and on today of all days.

"Catherine," he spoke softly into her hair. "What have you done?"

"I prayed to you," she told him. "Every night."

"I'm sorry," he said. And that was all he could say. There was nothing more. "How long do you have?"

They still hadn't split apart, and Catherine didn't plan on doing so anytime soon. "Margret was dying—I had to do something."

"How long?" he said again. More urgently.

"She's married now," Catherine continued. "Happy with her husband. Expecting their second child . . ."

"How long?!" he shook her slightly.

"Judging by the hour? A few minutes at best."

Tears stung in his eyes. "I'll save you," he promised her, and began to pull away.

She clung tighter to him. "No. Don't leave me, please. Not again. You can't do anything now—it's too late. So please . . ."

He nodded. "I promise."

"Castiel," she said. "Please remember—I still love you. I love you so much . . . More than I should. Even after all this time."

"I love you too," he told her. "And I always will. I'll find a way to save you, Catherine I promise . . ."

"Don't you dare," she told him. Though her face was still buried in his shoulder, he could tell by her shaking shoulders that she was crying. "You can't risk it. If you try to bring me back, Maggie may die. You can't, Castiel. You mustn't."

He squeezed her even tighter. "I can't just let you rot in hell."

"Yes you can. You must. Promise me that you will not bring me back. Even if you can . . . Once I die I should stay dead."

A crashing noise came from behind, but neither of them had to lift their heads to know what it was. Hellhounds.

"Goodbye, Love," Catherine whispered. Moments later she was ripped from Castiel's arms. Faintly, he could hear her screaming as the invisible monsters tore her to shreds. He was pretty sure he screamed too. And tried to fight them off with his sword. But whenever he looked back on that moment, the only thing he could remember was a loud ringing in his ears. Too loud to hear anything else.

* * *

**Approximately 660 years later**

Castiel could hear her voice from the hall. She was on the phone with the Winchesters, telling them that he had finally awoken. He felt . . . Strange. Different—but not necessarily in a bad way.

Meg reentered the room and met his eyes. "Well, good morning, Sunshine."

"I didn't want to believe it," Castiel told her. "But I can see it now . . . I can see who you are, Meg."

Her eyebrows creased. "What are you talking about?"

"I thought when you kissed me . . . But I dismissed it," he continued. "Even though I had heard rumors that you were back . . . Even though I had seen all the signs. I had convinced myself to dismiss it. But now, my head is clear . . . And I know. Catherine, I—"

"SHH!" she exclaimed. She ran over from the door way and slapped a hand over his mouth. "Never speak my name! Do you know how dangerous that could be?!"

When her palm finally fell away from his mouth, Castiel once again began talking. "Do you remember me?"

Was Meg actually _blushing?_ "Of course . . ." she said. "I could never forget. Even if I tried."

"Why did you not tell me?" He took her hand. "I've spent so long thinking I'd never see you again . . ."

"You won't," she told him. "I'm not Catherine Greene anymore, Castiel. You know that. I'm a demon now . . . I'm different."

Never had he heard Meg use such a serious tone. It was strange. But also made the situation seem more real. He shook his head. "No. You may have changed over the years, but you're still her. Somewhere deep, deep down. I can sense it."

Meg ignored him and decided to change the subject. "Did you stay in touch with Margret?"

Castiel shook his head. "I couldn't bear to become close to her . . . I had already lost you—I didn't need to lose your sister as well. I did keep an eye on here, however. She lived a full and happy life. Many children and grandchildren . . . If you'd believe me I'm almost positive Sam and Dean are two of her descendants. Though there isn't much of a way to be sure . . ."

Meg snorted. "Pretty boys are my nephews then? Great. Wish I could tell them that . . ."

"Why can't you?" Castiel asked her, taking her hands. "Don't you want them to know?"

Meg shook her head. "I can't trust them with that much personal information—not yet. And you can't either. Promise me you won't say a word, Cas."

He was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, Meg."

She actually smiled, though only for a second. "Thank you, Angel-Man."


End file.
